


The Panic Room

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-20
Updated: 2007-08-20
Packaged: 2018-10-26 10:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: In the abandoned and vandalized Granger house Hermione takes steps to ensure her future is secured. A prelude to Last Testament.





	The Panic Room

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Special Thanks To Leviathan and Sandy

The Panic Room.

By alloy

“I never took you for such a messy person, Hermione.”

Ron was standing in the doorway to her bedroom, and while the comment was light enough, there was a certain grimness which Hermione had long ago learned to recognize.

Her parent’s house had been ransacked. It had lain vacant for a year protected from Muggle eyes by the illusion of a vacant lot; an illusion, which had clearly meant little to Death Eaters. The front door had been blasted open, windows shattered, and fittings smashed in obvious frustration.

The only room that had contained any furniture had been Hermione’s own, and Hermione had been reluctant to see what damage had been done to the bedroom of her youth.

She took a deep breath stepped forward and put her arms around Ron, burying her face in his back.

“How bad is it?” 

“Well…” Ron replied. “If it were my room I’d say it was tidy.”

“That bad?”

“Ah huh.”

Hermione peered around Ron.

It was worse than she had imagined, not only had the room suffered from the elements courtesy of the broken windows, it had also been subject to human abuse. Her bed had been ripped apart, as had her pillows and cushions, bed clothes had been shredded. Cupboards and drawers had been emptied, clothes lay strewn everywhere, and the sad shells of books boasted only as fluttering remnants of their original pages.

“The clothes were mostly too small,” Hermione whispered. 

“It’s not the clothes that are important,” Ron said. He crouched down and pulled out a book that had hidden beneath a dresser. “Some of these might be okay.”

Together they sifted through the wreckage. Many of the books were repairable, and Hermione was also able to fix a number of photographs and pictures.

“Bastards.”

Hermione glanced up. Ron was in a corner of the room near her chest of drawers.

“Ron, what’s wrong?”

Ron started. “Oh! Um…” He glanced down at the grubby white cotton in his hands. “I wasn’t,” he said. “I mean I was trying to collect the books.”

“What is it, Ron?”

Red faced, Ron held out the grubby white cotton to her.

Hermione took it and unfolded it to reveal her first training bra. The cups had been viciously slashed a number of times.

“It’s like…” Ron spluttered. “It’s like they wanted to hurt you like that! Perverted bastards!”

“Hermione tossed the garment aside and crossed the debris strewn room throwing herself into Ron’s surprised arms.

“Oh Ron,” she exclaimed. “I love you so much.”

“I wasn’t trying to perve over your undies.”

“Really?”

“There may be a book or two under them.”

“Shutup, Ron,” and she kissed him.

She relished this; Ron’s soft lips, his faint stubble, his strong arms wrapped around her, his tentative tongue seeking entrance to her mouth and the hands that, more often now, dropped to cup her buttocks.

Abruptly Ron broke their kiss turning from her as if surveying the wreckage of the room.

“Ron?”

“I want more than this, you know?”

“More?”

“More than just snogging.”

Hermione put her hands around him again. “I thought you liked snogging.”

“Lavender…” Inwardly Hermione cringed. He wasn’t! He wasn’t going to compare her to Lavender.

“Lavender taught me that snogging isn’t enough,” Ron paused. “But with you I don’t have to snog.”

“Don’t I kiss as well as Lavender then?”

“Each kiss with you is like a thousand with Lavender.”

That, quite frankly, made Hermione’s knees weak. “What are you saying, Ron?”

“I don’t want to ever stop kissing you, ever.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to be a hundred and fifty and still kissing you every day.”

“Oh!” 

Ron’s confession was…. frightening. They were both so young, barely adults and only just recovering from the war that had stolen their childhood and now… The thought of a future without Ron, especially now that the war was over, was terrifying.

“Hermione?”

“Hermione?”

“You’ve just asked me to marry you,” she whispered.

“I haven’t a ring,” Ron said. “Or even any money or anything really. All I know is that without you, I’ll die.”

His words echoed in Hermione ears. 

“Without you I’ll die.”

“Can we plan it at least?”

“What?”

“Instead of going off like Harry, all half cocked, can we at least plan our lives?”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“That’s an ‘I love you,’ and an “I can’t live without you,” and an “I need you,” and an “Everything” all at once.”

Ron turned in her arms. “You are the air that I need,” he said.

Hermione giggled.

“What?”

“That wasn’t Ron Weasley,” she said. “I don’t know who that was, but it wasn’t you.”

Ron grinned. “There’s this book…”

Hermione shook her head. “Maybe you better leave the books to me.” 

She took his hand leading him down the stairs into the study. On the edge of the empty bookcase she felt around, finding the knot of wood she was looking for, pressing hard and hearing a click.

“A secret room?” Ron said pulling the bookcase away from the wall.

“It’s called a panic room,” Hermione said. “Mum and Dad had it installed two years ago.”

“There’s a bed,” Ron said, “And some cupboards. Looks like they didn’t find this place.”

“There’s some food in here as well, and candles and batteries.”

Hermione gently pushed Ron further into the room. “Mind your head, some of the room is under the stairs.” Then she pulled the door closed behind them hearing a satisfying click, plunging them into darkness.

“Hermione!”

“Harry said you’ve had nightmares about Malfoy Manor.”

“Lumos!” Ron said lighting the confined space. “Harry should keep quiet!”

“That you wake up shouting my name.”

“Please, Hermione.”

“There’s something I have to tell you, Ron.”

“Hermione,” Ron groaned. “It should have been me. That bitch should have tortured me.”

“She did, Ron. She’s still torturing you.”

“Your screaming, Hermione. I keep on hearing it.”

“And I keep on hearing you shout my name.”

“What?”

“It was horrible, Ron, truly horrible, but every time I thought I couldn’t stand it, I’d hear you shouting my name and I knew you loved me, and that love gave me strength.”

“I was hopeless, I couldn’t help you at all.”

“Nonsense. You tried to take my place. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Can we get out of here, Hermione?”

Hermione found the light switch and a dull blue fluorescent light illuminated the little room.

Ron let his wand light die. “Please, Hermione.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, Ron. We’ve both got lots of bad memories of the horrors and trials we’ve faced. It’s time to start making new memories, happy memories.” She stepped closer to Ron, and bringing up her hands began undoing his shirt buttons.

Ron didn’t say anything. Hermione finished with the buttons and slipped the shirt over his shoulders allowing her fingers to flow down his arms. As the shirt fell away she placed her hand on his sternum.

His breathing had become shallow now; his hand came up to capture hers.

“Don’t,” she said. “I want to enjoy you.”

The freckles, as she had suspected, covered his chest. There was a soft down, almost invisible except to touch, and dark copper hairs sprouted randomly from around his nipples, which had hardened at her touch. She let her hand sink enjoying the feel of his firm muscled stomach discovering the coarse copper hair again.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. “Special and unique and you don’t realize half the things you’ve done to make me love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I know, Ron, I know it so much you never have to say it again.” Hermione paused. “But you had better-- you understand?”

“I want to,” Ron replied. “I need to.”

Hermione’s hands fumbled with his belt and the button on his jeans and they pooled around his feet, without hesitation she pulled down his boxer shorts as well.

His erection jerked in its release.

“Oh,” was all she could muster.

Ron stepped back suddenly and hit his head against the lowering ceiling. “Oww,” he exclaimed falling onto the bed.

Hermione giggled.

“What?”

“It bobbed,” Hermione said moving her hand to demonstrate. “It looked so awkward.”

“You have no idea.” Ron said as he kicked off his trainers, jeans and boxers and climbed further up onto the bed.

Hermione became suddenly aware of a warmth centered in her stomach spreading throughout her body.

“Do you want to undress me?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Ron replied. “I’ve imagined this so many ways, I just don’t …..” His voice trailed away as Hermione unbuttoned her own shirt.

“Come here,” he said, his voice strange and hoarse.

She obeyed, crawling onto the bed next to him.

Ron’s hand slid her shirt down her shoulder, caressing her side as he did so, revealing her cotton cupped left breast; the nipple, pert in the fabric. He groaned sending chills through Hermione’s body, and she shrugged the shirt off her right shoulder.

“Oh Merlin,” came a husky whisper.

Hermione jumped when his hand cupped her breast and Ron stopped, looking at her questioningly.

There was pressure, an unbearable pressure, feather light and unbearable. Hermione reach behind and unclipped the garment, and Ron gently pulled it way to bare her breasts. 

She froze for a moment, and then felt the kiss on the side of her breast, tentative. Hermione turned to allow his mouth better access and gasped as he took her nipple in his mouth.

Her fingers scrabbled for the button on her jeans, scrabbled in frustration. She needed them off, she needed to lie naked next this man, this lover, and his hand joined hers, helping peel away the clothes, to bare her body to him.

For an eternity Ron alternated between her breasts, kissing, sucking, nibbling. All the while running his fingers up and down her body until in frustration, she grasped his hand and brought it there to cup her centre mystery.

With more forwardness than she had ever expected to have, she wrapped her fingers around his length. “I need you,” she said. “I need this.”

Ron shook his head, as if awaking from a befuddlement charm. “We can’t,” he said. “What if you got pregnant?”

“It’s taken care of. Ron, trust me.” Hermione pushed Ron to his back, crouching astride him and his hands came up again fondling her breasts. Ron’s head strained up, and he gasped, sucking hard as Hermione lowered herself onto him, and Ron’s head fell back to meet her eyes.

There was a complete and utter moment of stillness.

Longing and fulfillment, and pain, just a little, and a closeness she had never felt before, and in his eyes… Ron’s soul.

Hermione allowed herself the pleasure of memory- of slugs, of spiders, of defiance, and ‘interesting’, and loyalty, and “Take me!” and her name being screamed from the darkness below.

“Hermione.” Guttural.

An intense fleeting pumping pleasure in her groin, unknown and unexpected.

“I’m sorry.”

Warm inside.

Then, something she never expected to happen filled her with more than the love she felt before.

Her own wave of pleasure, so intense as to drive her to scream, and echoing hers, his deeper man-voice, groaning. 

Ron meeting her pleasures, sharing them, his arms enveloping her, holding her to his chest. 

In rhythm, heartbeat for heartbeat, breath for breath, pleasure for pleasure until she can bear it no more, and his last words.

"Hermione, please..."

Little death.

His eyes are so wide when she opens hers. He’s so still, yet the warmth of him, inside and out is reassuring. 

“That was incredible,” he shook his head groggily. “Bloody amazing.” 

“I didn’t expect it, Ron. Not this first time, to orgasm like…ooh.” Hermione shivered, a stab of pleasure ran through her.”

“I felt that,” Ron said.

“You should.” It seemed like a ridiculous time to blush but Hermione felt her cheeks burning. “You are still inside me.”

“Not like that,” Ron paused. “Well, like that too, but the pleasure.” He suddenly grinned. “The pleasure I’m giving you, I can feel it too. It makes be want to….”

Ron began to move again deliberately, in and out of her. “I think…”

Hermione could feel it, a different kind of pleasure; more focused, concentrated, and then without warning a sudden release.

“Do you?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, not trusting her own voice.

“Brilliant!”

Hermione smiled. “It means you’re mine forever and ever.” Hermione pushed herself off Ron’s chest.

Ron’s eyes widened. “A bonding! Mum’s going to kill me!”

“She doesn’t have to know yet.”

“How do you know?”

“About the bonding?” Ron nodded. 

“Girls talk Ron. All the pureblood witches claim their parents bonded on their wedding nights.”

“I thought… I mean you’re not cross?”

“Why should I? It means you love me.”

“It’s for life Hermione, some say forever.”

Hermione smiled down at her bemused lover. “Silly Ronald.” She chided gently. “You never think you’re good enough. Forever is only the beginning.” She lay down upon him again. “Remember my love, I seduced you.”

Fin


End file.
